Mary, Quite Contrary
by antoinette bourbon
Summary: Seven years after the Secret Garden left off, we find ourselves back at home with Mary, Dickon and Colin. Mary finds herself being fought over by Colin and Dickon, and finds that her affection lies in an unexpected place. Reviews welcome and appreciated.
1. Mistress Mary

Mary stared out the window of her bedroom, into the dreary mist of the late afternoon. "Mary, Helen and I are going riding. Would you like to come?"

Mary turned and smiled at her friend, "No, Teresa, I think that I shall take a nap before supper."

"Alright, we shall be back shortly." Teresa left the room. Finally, Mary thought, a chance to be alone. Earlier that morning, letters had arrived for her from Misselthwaite, and she needed privacy. The letter from Lord Craven was as it always was, polite questions about her health and the weather, with no real meaning. Still, she appreciated his effort. There was also a letter from Colin, who was already home from school from the Christmas holidays. His was slightly more interesting than Lord Craven's, but she only skimmed through it, in her attempt to get to the letter behind it. Martha posted the letters, and always put Dickon's last.

His letters always made her laugh, and they included all the news from the household that Lord Craven and Colin took little interest in. Since dear Ben's death, Dickon had found employment as a gardener at Misselthwaite, charged with the maintenance of their secret garden. He always included stories of their childhood days together, before they had been separated. At the age of twelve, both Mary and Colin had been sent to school, he to Eton and she to the St. Agnes School for Girls. Colin learned politics and mathematics, where she learned how to served tea and curtsy. Dickon came into the class to which he had been born, a servant, and it was no longer considered proper for them to be friends. The only time they really got to talk was when they were all alone together in the garden.

She was reading the letter once more, searching for any hidden meaning, when someone came through the door. Eleanor, one of two other girls who shared her room came in. "Mary, have you seen my bonnet?"

"No, Ellie."

"What is that, a love letter?"

"No, of course not…" Mary blushed, as Eleanor grabbed the letter from her hand.

"This is not romantic at all."

"No, it is not." No matter how much she wished it were.

"Miss Lennox, welcome home." Mrs. Medlock said coldly as Mary came up the front steps.

"Thank you, Mrs. Medlock, it is good to be home." The imposing façade of Misselthwaite greeting her, presenting about as much cheer as Mrs. Medlock's smile. She came into the grand entryway to find Colin and Lord Craven there to greet her. Colin ran forward and seemed to want to embrace her, but then remembered himself and turned it into a very formal handshake. The years had given him height, and a newfound love for riding had given him a physique very different than the beanpole body of his youth. His hair was still as fair as it had been when he had been young, but he was not as pale as he used to be. Undoubtedly, he was handsome, his most brilliant feature being his bright blue eyes.

"It's so good to see you Mary. It seems like forever since last Christmas."

"Indeed, Colin. I should be glad to see you more often. Lord Craven, how are you?" She turned her attention to the hunched old man with thick gray hair and a kind smile.

"As well as can be expected when I have an empty house most of the year."

"Oh, Uncle, I shall graduate in a year, and then I shall see you much too often for your taste. You shall grow sick of me."

"Impossible, Mary. Come, you must get ready. We dine soon." She went up the stairs, and made her way into the room she had called her own for so many years. She found her old chambermaid, Martha, waiting."

Her kind eyes sparked as she rose slowly to greet her. Martha had been married to one of the footmen for four years now, and was pregnant with her third child. As a maid, Mary had very little use for her. She had her own maid, Florette, as it was the latest fashion to have a French ladies maid. Still, she had been friends with Martha for six years now. They had little time to talk, as Mary had to get ready for supper. Mary told her of school, and Martha told her of her family, and of Dickon. "You should see the look on his face whenever one of your letters arrives. It is as if the sun does not rise in the morning if he has not read a letter from you. Most of the time he just skulks around the gardens, waiting."

"That does not sound like Dickon at all." Mary said as Florette twisted her hair painfully into a knot.

"I know. That is why…I wonder if you could talk to him."

"What about?"

"There is something bothering him that he won't tell us. Maybe if you find out what it is, you can help fix it."

"Of course, Martha, I'll try."

"Thank you, Miss Mary. I knew that you would help." Mary said nothing after this, knowing exactly what plagued Dickon.

The dinner was perfect in every way. The fish was cooked just to her liking, and the wines were exquisite. Colin told them all of his school, and his plans to attend Oxford next fall. Colin had always done very well in school, and desired to become a doctor to "help those who are truly sick." Lord Craven told them all of his travels in Switzerland over the past months, and the evening was genuinely enjoyable.

After dinner, they moved to the drawing room, and Lord Craven soon retired. Colin and Mary sat together for some time, reliving memories and laughing. When silence came over them for a moment, Colin withdrew something from his pocket. "Here, early Christmas present." He tossed a small blue velvet wrapped box to her. It was wrapped in a yellow silk ribbon, small and delicate. She opened it to find a small, golden box. The design was fascinating, it looked exactly like their garden.

"Colin, it is so beautiful."

"Open it." She did, to find the figures of three small children, two boys and a girl, running around in a shining porcelain garden. The box played a beautiful tinkling, eerily familiar tune when it opened. "Do you recognize the music?" She shook her head. " When you came home for Christmas the first time, after you learned to play the piano, it was the first song you ever played for me."

"You remembered that?"

"I remember everything about you, Mary. I bet that I can recall every conversation we have ever had…aren't you going to open the drawer?" She looked again, and saw a hidden compartment. She opened it to find a ring with an extraordinary diamond on it, she held it to the light and it shined brilliantly. "Mary, I love you. I have always loved you, ever since the moment I first saw you, only I did not know it then. I always said that I would marry you, don't you remember?"

Mary was not listening to his speech, her mind was transported to Christmastime one year before. She could not sleep, and she had gone to the garden, where she found that it was easier to think. She sat near the pond, trailing her fingertips in the icy water. He came upon her quietly, surprising her.

"I have missed you." He said quietly.

"And I you." She said, still staring into the water, although her hand had stopped moving.

"I love you." She was not shocked by his declaration, for she had seen it coming for quite some time. "I want to marry you, if you'll have me." Into her hand, he pressed a cheap silver ring with a tragic little pearl. Meaningless to her, but he had probably been saving and scrimping for a year to buy it. She held his hand in hers for a moment, and felt the callousness and cuts that came from years of hard work.

"I don't know." It was true that she loved Dickon, but she knew how impossible it would be. They were from different worlds, no matter what her heart said. "I shall think about it. I am coming back home for Christmas next year, and I shall give you my answer then." He left her the ring, and they never spoke of it again. His letters were the same as before, but it took him longer to respond, and his words were more careful.

She came back to reality when Colin took her hand in his. His hands were so soft, his love so blind. It would be simple to marry Colin. She loved him, if not in a romantic way, it was still love. Here there would be no complications, she would slip simply into being Mrs. Craven for the rest of her days.

"I don't know Colin. I need time to think. I'll have an answer for you by Christmas."


	2. Silver Bells

It had been a tradition at the Craven household the past few years to hold a ball on Christmas Eve. The few well bred neighbors and wealthy landowners within traveling distance all came out in full force to the house for a night of dancing, cards and gossip. Mary and Colin made the appropriate rounds as host and hostess of the evening, making certain that everyone was having a fine time. Among the gossip, the main theme was the beautiful Miss Mary Lennox. Endowed with her own fortune and charm, she seemed the most eligible lady in the county. Although, judging by the looks Mr. Colin gave her, she was to be off the market soon.

At some point during the evening, Mary walked out on the terrace to get some air. She had danced almost the entire night, and she was tired of forced conversations and ugly squires. She sat down on the ledge, fanning herself, when she saw a shadow in the darkness. Dickon appeared, taking her by surprise. "Dickon, you frightened me."

"My apologies, Miss Lennox."

"Miss Lennox? Since when am I Miss Lennox?"

"Since when do you stay here an entire week without seeing me once?"

"Dickon, I have been so busy planning the party."

" You used to go out of your way to see me."

"I used to do a lot of things, Dickon. I've grown out of most of them."

"Have you outgrown me? I remember one year ago, you told me to wait for you. You have not shown me the same courtesy."

"What are you talking about?"

"You think I do not know about you and Colin. Why is it that the man with the more expensive ring always wins the lady?"

"You think that that is the reason I have not given you an answer?"

"Why else?"

"It is difficult, Dickon. If I married you, what would people say? They would ostracize us, branding you as a social climber and me as a commoner."

"Commoner, what is so wrong with being a commoner?"

"You would not understand, you could not."

"You think that I am nothing, that I am no one. I love you, does it matter whether I am of your class or not."

"Mary, are you out here?" Colin's thin voice called out above Dickon's frantic whisper.

"I'll be there in a moment." Mary yelled back, breaking free of Dickon's grasp and returning to the bright lights.

After all of their guests had departed, Mary was still alive with energy. She took a wrap and went out into the garden, wandering alone with her thoughts. She saw him coming before he reached her, and she dreaded him coming. "Mary, what are you doing out here?"

"I wanted to walk, to think."

"Have you thought about what I asked of you."

"Yes. I have."

"And?"

"I will marry you." Colin came and embraced her, his lips finding hers. The air had grown colder since she had first been walking, and she shivered in the chill. Colin's features were blurred by the closeness and the stars, and for a moment she thought he resembled Dickon and she felt the magic again. What had she just done? He was nothing like Dickon. This man smelled of sandalwood, and Dickon smelled of earth. Colin was soft and poetic, Dickon hard and passionate.

"Mary, you have made me so happy." She wished that she could have said the same to him.

"You look beautiful, Mary." Teresa said in awe, looking demure in her lilac bridesmaid's gown.

"Thank you, Teresa." She surveyed herself once more in the mirror, and still could not believe that she was to be married that day. Her gown was covered in the finest lace, her aunt's pearls about her throat. After the ceremony, the fashionable Mr. and Mrs. Craven would hold a banquet at Misselthwaite before their departure to the Riviera for the honeymoon.

She was to be a June bride, like her mother. She looked like a princess, living in a fairytale, and felt like a sailor caught in a storm. Is it wrong of me, she thought, to marry him? Would he at some point find his true love and regret his decision, as she already did. She feared that on their two month vacation from reality, that she would grow tired of his company and hate him. She sat down and stared at herself in the mirror. She heard the door open, and Martha came in.

"Oh, Martha, how are you?"

"Oh, Miss Mary, I'm fine. You look so lovely on your wedding day."

"Thank you, Martha."

"Pardon me, Miss Mary, but you do not look very happy. Is something bothering you."

"Yes, but…it is hard to explain."

"Oh, Mary, you don't love him, do you?"

"No." Mary felt the tears coming, even as she tried to stifle them.

"Oh, dearie, don't cry. Mr. Colin is a wonderful man, I am sure that you will be very happy together."

"It is not that, it is that I love another."

"My brother?"

"How did you know?"

"He left after your engagement was announced, to London. Said that he couldn't stay at Misselthwaite anymore, that he wanted to make his fortune."

"We…he asked me to marry him. You understand how impossible it would have been."

"All I understand is that what has been done is in the past. Mr. Colin is waiting for you, and he loves you. You must choose now whether or not his love is enough to entice you into matrimony."

"What is it like, Martha? Being married, I mean."

"It is calming, in a sense. Joe and I get along well, and the children are a joy. It is simply nice to know that no matter what, he is there for me."

"Did you love him when you were married?"

"Yes, I had loved him for a long time. We had been sweet on each other for almost a year before he proposed. I think that our love has grown, since then. You learn a lot from a person spending so much time with them. I think that you will discover a side of Mr. Colin you never knew about if you spend time with him."

Mary heard every word she said, desperate for any guidance. She knew then what she would do, even if she was afraid. She walked down the aisle that day, and returned to Misselthwaite Mrs. Colin Craven.


End file.
